A little bit of ***
In a canvas bag
And a wallet full of notes
And a piece of rag
A tooth brush and comb
And a letter pack
And a bit of paper
With a number on the back
And a crisp old sheet
From a writing pad
Is a folded memory
And a poem so sad
Yet with joy in the lines
That live on still
While the love they were for
Will no longer thrill
For the cause is lost
Like the canvas bag
Left by the seat
With no name tag
How can I find
That fleeting two?
They won't be in Oxford
They were passing through
I met them in London
By the cold roadside
They wanted a lift
So I gave them a ride
They'll pass on
Down Exeter way
The cost of that lift
Was dear to pay
For now I am left
With a canvas bag
With a leather flap
For a naming tag
All covered with names
That student wrote
So when standing so cold
At a glance he'd note
The words of his subject
Written thereon
And his mind would warm
As he pondered on
The lecture from where
The thought first came
And the hour of the day
When he wrote the name
Nameless he was
And his lady too
Till the *******
Was sifted through
Then a card
Came to light
With a name upon it
Plain to sight
And I remember
The college hall
Goldsmith's was
The name let fall
So to the English
Scholar then
I may return
The bag again
With a little bit of ***
And a sad love poem
I'll return them all
To their former home.